The amber ball of flaming passion high above the windswept plains of sand that made up the sandy plains of Sand reflected lightly off the glasses of one Hakkenshi Yoshi, water glistening from his toned abs as he rinsed off after a hard day of training with his rosaries. He slowly cupped each ball with his hand as the cool water ran over them, cleaning them of the sweat and tears that the youthful, muscular Hakkenshi put into them every time he trained. The clan's training grounds were empty that evening, as everyone was off celebrating the recent defeat of the evil Priests of Assate by the glorious combined forces of Enzan and his secret army of specially trained desert-dwelling bears.

A soft sigh escaped from the dreamy lips of Yoshi as his balls (rosaries!) fell to his side. With the enemy defeated, now a new emptiness had taken his heart- something so cold that even the unrelenting heat of the Sunagakure sun could not thaw it. The doctor clenched his brow and laughed into the dry air. "I have redeemed myself and won the day without killing a single person." he said, athletic chest heaving with every breath. "And yet now I ask myself: What next?"

From behind came the ruggedly attractive voice from a man younger but still very mature. "Yoshi-sama-kun-chan," he whispered, flicking his long locks aside dramatically. "Maybe what you've wanted wasn't fame or truth...but love." Daisuke batted his long, full eyelashes, despite the fact Yoshi couldn't see him. The doctor put his towel down as a slow smile grew on his face. The sand sprinkled across his body mixed with the water and gave his skin a shimmering sparkle in the waning evening light.

"And even now, a ghost of my past haunts me." Daisuke moved in closer, hands embracing the jounin and rubbing his face in the musky man's blond hair. It smelled of eyebrow wax and wind. No, wait.Daisuke pulled back a bit and rubbed his eyes. That's me.

Yoshi ran one of his wiry fingers down the arm of the Green Ghost, moaning softly at his long-time companion's touch. It was a good thing Daisuke was on his back, because when Yoshi looked into those dead, lifeless eyes all he could think was "What am I supposed to think, these eyes are cold, inhuman, and emotionless". The tanned flesh of the Hakkenshi shivered as Daisuke blew cool air down his neck.
"Have you ever been blown by the Divine Wind?" mumbled Daisuke as he traced Yoshi's lips with one long suspiciously well-manicured finger.

"Are you injured or hurt in some way, Daisuke?" Abruptly stated Yoshi for no discernible reason.

"Shut up." Romantically demanded Daisuke. "You must have faith in my wind, which buries the desert in it's sandy grasp for eons and ages without passing-"

"A shock to the system like that can cause physical pain and symptoms even if the shock is one to the psyche.” Erotically groaned Yoshi, his rosary quaking with anticipation.

Together the two lovers spent the evening in their sweaty, passionate embrace. And as the blazing ball of fury and anger that beat down so harshly on the world left the sky and left the ravaged men entwined on that hallowed clan ground, there was no other word to call that battle other than victorious. For they had faced the Priests with their might will, plunged their souls into combat, drawn out from the muddied waters of failure, and finally came a earth shattering climax where the enemy lay twisted, torn, bloodied, and beaten. Tonight Sand had claimed it's victory over the forces of darkness and decay- tonight, peace would rule.

Tonight, the Green Ghost had been healed by the soothing hands of the Doctor, and no level of strength, nor sharpness of a puppets buzz saw, nor pulsating grinding rock-hard worms, nor body swallowing could pull the two apart.

"I love you" Said Daisuke, planting a light kiss on the panting mouth of the Hakkenshi. Yoshi looked at his partner and smiled.

"Well," he said, a michevious laugh in his voice, "I suppose you could say...We Shall Rise Again?"

An endless, expansive sea stretched out before them. Waves crashed like thunder on the salty shore and brought renewed sprays of lung cleansing sea air to their lungs as they watched the last of the enemy vessels sink beneath the churning ocean. The sun cast its dying orange and red rays across the wondrous canvas of water as the two powerful shinobi looked on in awe at their handiwork.

Had the traitorous forces of the Water Lord been defeated? Had the mystery of the Priests of Assate and their surprising collaboration with the Seven Swordsmen (several of whom turned out to be the reanimated corpses of once forgotten undersea elder gods given flesh, having broken off from the Leviathan and resurrected as part of a scheme for world destruction)? What did such questions matter when in the embrace of a comrade?

Yes, this was a union of two whom fate had decided should never meet. The mighty sea dragon himself, Gounomono. The stoic Celestial Dragon of the renown Renchishin clan, Hitoko. It was written that the unquenchable sands of Kaze no Kuni would forever remain barren and empty- that the limitless sea of the oceans of Kirigakure could never be tamed. And yet here they both stood, shoulder to shoulder, having effortlessly crushed those which would oppose their respective homelands and earned the undying adoration and respect of their peoples.

But that was not all. Oh no. Theirs was a prize that could not be measured in medals or promotions, bills or debriefings, lives or deaths. A different prize awaited the victors at the end of this tunnel.

The weathered but still pouty lips of one Celestial Dragon let out a deep, satisfied sigh. Before he would speak on that holy and hallowed beach, the proper mood needed to be set.

Some of the greatest inspiration is born of desperation – Markus Aurelius

Thread Typeface:

Shonar Bangla

Thread Salsa:

Mild Mango Chunky

Out came the words that neither spoke but both wanted so desperately to hear. Each syllable trembled on the lips of the Celestial Dragon, his thoughts and passions vibrating across the air with the very song his throat released: “Yo.”

Gou looked over and said “hey”

The moment was magical. The two thick, muscled bodies coated in the blood of the monsters they had just slain (including but not limited to two separate krakens, a metal scorpion, and an entire army of undead skeletal mermaids) glistened beneath the reflected light of one of Mist's famous sunsets. Silently they both plunged into the water to wash the sin from their chiseled flesh. The water streamed through Hitoko's gorgeous hair while the blood trickled from Gou's many wounds, mixing and churning with the waves and merging both their body fluids together in a steamy bath. This was it. This was the moment.

Sand's cherished son looked over at Gounomonoumonoumo with his ruby eyes and batted those adoring, firm eyelashes. “Mind if I reveal to you, cherished ally-chan, what the Water Country hermit taught me of life?”

Gou scratched his ass and said “yah”

The acts that followed were swift and unspeakable. The massive, thick weapon of Goudamono and the subtle, delicate weavings of the poetic Hitoko and his fluid-like fists met in ways that could only be described as climatic. Water surged and flowed, fluids mounting and crashing against the shores of the shinobi in great tidal heaps. Gou could feel no pain- but pleasure, oh, but pleasure! The fierce meeting of flesh between the two titans brought eloquence to the mouth of the normally brutish Mist shinobi, who only then found the right words to articulate his profound insight and euphoria.

"aw fawk"

The Celestial Dragon had more than a empty palm with with to lay upon the skin of his partner. Trained in the arts of Raiton and with a knowledge of the human anatomy stretching back to his days as a young tactician, the Renchishin showed the jounin what it truly meant to be put into a compromising position. But the Mist could not be foiled so easily- as the fog rolled in, the great Gounanowrimo had one more trick up his sleeve: Mists infamous chakra cannons, hot and ready to fire from the bow of his vessel.

And so they clashed well into the night, the hot, furious rage of Mist's waters with the cool, serene temperament of Sand's deserts. It was truly an obscene sight to behold.

Setting: A frozen hamlet on the border of Leaf and what used to be Snow. Gentle ice falls from the heavens like powdered sugar on a doughnut. Enter: The Fist
“Fucking shitfuck” said Sanada “Fist” Johnson “The Fist” Sanshiro Fist Jr. He grew and extra pair of arms to toss his hair back, then cut off and ate the extra limbs. “Even with my Celestial Body, the bloodright of the Sanada and heir to the throne of the Leaf King, my nipples are far too cold.” One might have said that perhaps if the boy hadn’t ripped his shirt off, he wouldn’t have been so cold, but those people lived in the past. The shirted past. Fists didn’t wear shirts. It all made sense to him now- he must blow up the weather.

However, being thrust into such a position of power had its prices. The Great Nation of Sand would not tolerate such tomfoolery so close to its own border. The astute might say that Kaze no Kuni didn’t border Snow at all, but riddle me this: wasn’t it true that the wind touched everything and therefore all land technically could be called ‘Wind Country’? I mean is there even a volcano in Fire Country or anything? What’s up with that nonsense?

So, as Fist prepared to launch several stage seven katons into the sky for several posts in row, Sunagakure sent its most expendable champion. Bursting from the snowdrifts this taut young warrior ran forward and punched Fist.

“It is I Len Sosu.” He said either before or after the punch. The timeline here wasn’t very well established.
“Fuck!”Fucked Fist, growing a pair of arms out of his mouth to flip off his attacker. “You can’t fist Fist unless you’re Fist! Fist off!”

Len Sosu then charged forward and punched Fist.“Ha!”Fist bolded dangerously, then grew a pair of arms then grew some wings on those arms, turning the wings into katanas (that also had some eyeballs on them). “My bloodclan kinky ginky means any damage you do to me will just be regenerated! I’m not even going to bother to dodge your dumb shit!”

Len Sosu then did a backflip and punched Fist.“Shitting fuckshits!”Fist took off into the air, his wings bursting into flame. “Didn’t I just clarify the rule about not fisting Fist? I would like to please request you carefully consider the boundaries of this engagement; which is to say, the established protocols and ‘give and take’ vis-à-vis the exchange of blows commonly referred to as a ‘fight’, and your place within the unsaid social contract that binds us both to such an altercation.”

Len Sosu said “Nice try I have 4 stage 5 tais you know” then punched Fist.

While there clearly was no physical damage on Fist sustained from Len Sosu’s reality warping blows, he knew he was in trouble. The true pain came not from non-wounds sustained to his body, which now consisted entirely of a mix of wings, arms, and fire. No, the pain he felt was mental. No matter how grand his clanbood’s Hokage special sauce was, one could not shake the impressive ability of Len Sosu to defy time and space. The man’s tactics and investigative prowess were overwhelming. This called for more drastic measures.

With a howl Fist snapped his fingers grew a pair of arm moons on his back, which exploded into a million fingers. The entire battlefield was soon knee deep in appendages. But it wasn’t over, oh no, not by a long shot. Fist then rose up a million miles into the air and grabbed the sun. “Let’s see you fucking shit baby your way out of this pile of shitty fuckfuck!” He eloquently articulated. Then he snapped all million of his fingers at the same time and hurled the sun into Len Sosu, throwing in about 6 rasengans as well because he had the usages.

Len Sosu dodged, then punched Fist.
“Stop all this senseless violence!” A lone figure jumped out and held his arms aloft. “Make smut, not war!” “Oh my god!”Gasped Fist, growing a pair of katanas and setting them on fire then exploding them. “Yes, I can see now. I cannot let myself be ruled by teenage hormones and my insatiable ego. I have made a mistake, noble Len Sosu!” Re-entering Earth’s orbit Fist burned up into a small cinder, but then regenerated back to normal anyway. Then he grew a shirt and ripped it off. “Rather than try to fuck you up, I should have just tried to fuck you! Here comes the Fist!”

The acts that followed were swift and distasteful, but you couldn’t knock the passion that went into them. In the end the snow melted not from a successive use of more and more powerful katons, nor from the repeated growth and severing of limbs, nor not even whatever weird ass bullshit was going on with the global arc. No, what melted the ice of Fist’s and Sosu’s soul was something purer- not lust, not even love, but a bond that transcended flesh and mind. Fist realized that he could grow anything on his body…except someone to talk to. That, ladies and gentleman, was the moment a warrior became a lord- a hero, into a champion. In those simple moments of conjugal grinding came the insight of a lifetime, a profound moment of prodigal importance to the Fist who was now…an open, welcoming Palm.

Len Sosu jumped then punched, followed by punching with a jump. Fist died. “I have won.” Said Len Sosu. “I would like to put my points towards Stage Six of Fierce God Fist.”